


Tear me apart, I've been thunderstruck

by i_am_my_opheliac



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 16:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_my_opheliac/pseuds/i_am_my_opheliac
Summary: There's a storm raging, both outside and inside Phil's brain. He just has to hope Dan will stay next to him all along, making sure to bring the sunshine the moment the clouds disappear.-Written for Phandom Fic Fest Holiday Exchange 2018





	Tear me apart, I've been thunderstruck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obsessive-fics (xoPrincessKayxo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoPrincessKayxo/gifts).



> Thank you for giving me the opportunity to play with your idea. I hope you'll enjoy it.   
> Your Secret Santa.
> 
> -
> 
> To my beta: thank you for all the help and for going through this story even when you were busy with your own stuff. I hope you know how much I appreciate you!

The first strike of thunder had been so loud it had made Phil jump - an actual real jump, not a tiny hop where he barely left his feet attached to the ground, a proper one, hands raising to clutch at his chest as if to hold his heart in place.

Dan had let out a sound then, a mix between a yelp and a whimper, a sound that Phil had heard countless of times over the years, especially when they were watching an horror movie, lights off in their living room, hiding underneath a blanket because it made Dan feel more protected. It was a sound that meant fear.

It had been a reflex for Phil to turn around, an instinct that he wasn't even sure how long had been ingrained in his brain and yet was as natural as breathing, the need to check up on Dan. 

“Are you okay?” He had asked, brows furrowed and voice low, the most reassuring tone he could muster. 

They had been feet apart, Phil in front of the massive window of their hotel room, Dan right next to the bed that he had silently claimed as his, clothes scattered on top of the pristine white duvet, phone already plugged in, charging before their dinner. Even with the distance between them, Phil had been able to see the small smile that was starting to tug at the corner of Dan's lips, the look of silent gratitude on his face.

“Yeah,” Dan had confirmed, a small nod accompanying his soft voice. “I'm fine. It just sounded really close, didn't it?”

It had sounded close, closer than Phil had ever experienced anyway, the sheer force of the thunder seemingly shaking the entire building, so much so that for a second he had feared the windows would shatter in thousands of tiny pieces.

But he had shaken his head, walking away from the window to the bed closest to it, the one Dan had wordlessly left him - because he knew, from years of sharing hotel rooms, that Phil preferred to sleep closer to window and farther away from the door. 

“I think it just sounded like it because of how loud,” Phil had said, morphing his voice into a neutral tone and not looking at Dan, hoping to get away with the white lie. “Don't be scared, it's all fine.”

“I'm not scared.”

He hadn't looked but he knew, instantly, that Dan was pouting, arms probably wrapped around himself - not that Phil needed to look to know every single reaction Dan would have to a situation, could probably catalogue every one of them in his own personal list, describe each movement of his hands, each look in his eyes, a book that Phil knew by memory in ways that he had never been able to explain.

“Come on,” Phil had said, taking out the toiletries bag out of his suitcase, along with a shirt that didn't smell of airplane stale air. “We’ve only got 20 minutes before dinner.”

Dan had trailed along after Phil as they got in the spacious bathroom, grateful of fancy hotel rooms with fancy double sinks so that they could move around each other to get ready in time, a dance they had been practicing for years, since the very first time they had met, already thinking of the other person as their absolute best friend - on the way to something more.

It had startled Phil, that memory from a time that usually felt like a dream, the cloudy remnants of barely awake thoughts that had lasted almost a year and then drifted away as easily as they had appeared.

“Phil?” Dan had asked, a question in his voice, fingers threading between unruly curls that would inevitably get wild with the moisture in the air, but that he still wanted to tame, much to Phil's displeasure - Phil, who still dreamed of falling asleep with those curls tickling his nose, Phil who had been staring in the void for minutes now, mind wandering in a sea of memories of his best friend.

“Sorry, sorry,” he had said, shaking his head as if to push away the unwanted thoughts of a past that he couldn't relive, hidden behind doors of a closet that no longer seemed to exist. “Pass me the sea salt spray?”

 

* **

 

The storm was getting closer, the man at the reception said as he was giving them directions to the restaurant, a concerned look in his eyes as he watched them walk out of the foyer area one by one. 

“I wouldn't stay out long,” he said to Dan, voice soft and caring like Phil's grandfather used to be. “These storms always get pretty nasty. Sometimes even the electricity goes off.”

Dan nodded, unable to leave without acknowledging the man's advice, and then he simply shrugged when their crew gathered around him, as if listening to an ancient tale of mystery and wonders.

“He said not to stay out long,” he repeated, trying to sound as if he wasn't bothered by the warning, as if Phil couldn't tell from the slight tension in his shoulders that he wasn't thrilled by it. He had to resist the need to place a calming hand on his back, aware of too many eyes around them.

A couple of hours later, bellies full of delicious food and blood warmed up by the complex taste of red wine, they were surrounded by friends and co-workers, chatting along over this or that detail of their tour, once in a while interrupted by the loud sound of thunder hitting the ground.

There was a familiar weight on his shoulder, Phil realized all of a sudden as Marianne leaned over him to talk to Dan, whose head was comfortably perched in the incave between his neck and his collarbone, a place that Dan seemed to fit in without even trying, somewhere that has been for Dan to label as  _ his  _ for as long as Phil could remember.

How long had it been, Phil wondered, that Dan would let himself be that comfortable with him, in public? How long had it been since the always present shadow of their subscribers hadn't loomed over them, breathing down their necks at every minuscule step, the overwhelming questions about the two of them, who they were, what they were to each other? Questions that had once been too much to bear, too scary to face even when they were a small fraction of the monster they had eventually turned into over the years. Questions that, although Phil didn't like to think about it, had taken away the change of something bigger, something he had dreamed of for months and then let go. 

Something that he still wanted, he realized with a sudden emptiness in his stomach that had nothing to do with the lightning that had just exploded in the sky, making all of them jump in their seats - Dan's head jerking on his shoulder before disappearing, almost carving a hole in Phil's chest at the sudden feeling of  _ loss _ .

What was happening? Why was Phil suddenly aware of Dan's every single move, why were the ashes from the past swirling in front of his brain, close enough that he felt like a deeper inhale could make him choke on them, with how thick and full of meaning they were?

Why now, almost ten years later, thousands of miles away in a country that was literally on the opposite side of the world from home?

It took all of his willpower not to let his facade crumble when Dan turned to look at him, cheeks rosy from the wine and the company of people he trusted, dimple already half showing - as it always was whenever he looked at Phil, as bright as sunshine.

“I guess ominous receptionist was right.”

Phil blinked then, almost like he was trying to clear his vision - how rude of his brain, trying to come up with the image of Dan from the past when almost a decade later, he was still there for Phil to admire. 

“I guess he was,” Phil agreed, and it was lucky, that the cacophony of chattering and thundering was loud enough to cover most of his voice, because he was sure, absolutely so, that he hadn't sound as smitten in a very long time. 

 

***

 

It was a fancy hotel, the kind that had magnetic cards instead of keys to open the doors, so thin and discreet that Phil always risked losing them, accidentally leaving them around in whatever new city he was wandering. Dan used to keep them, whether they shared a room or not, a fond look on his face as if Phil being somewhat forgettable was the most endearing thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

“Oh Phil,” he would say, dimple showing in full and a smile that could make Phil forget about his terrible luck with hotel keys. 

The rain had increased in strength and volume by the time they got back to the hotel, positively dripping and chilled down to the bones despite the amount of alcohol consumed that had been enough to keep them warm throughout the dinner. Dan’s curls had gone wild, a fluffed up nest on top of his head, as soft and inviting for Phil as candyfloss.

With the storm getting stronger and stronger, the sound of the thunder even louder than it’d been before, no one was feeling up to hanging around at the hotel bar, something that they had done since the first tour they’d all spent together. The group loitered around the foyer area for a few seconds, as if waiting for the first person that would throw the key in and say goodnight, to follow. 

It was Marianne, in the end, that sighed and stepped forward first. “Okay, you lot, to bed. Tomorrow is a day off but I don’t want to hear any of you complain over breakfast.” She stared all of them with that way she had, her soft features morphed into a scowl that usually reminded Phil of his mum, that authority that came so easily to her that he had never been able to replicate - despite technically being one of the two people in charge.

No one tried to disagree, and one by one they all started to shuffle out of the circle they’d somehow fallen into, throwing goodbyes around and making last minute arrangements for the next day. 

Cornelia walked to where Dan and Phil were standing - in the corner, a bit further away then the rest of them, shoulders brushing without making an active decision to do so - and gathered the two of them in a hug, so affectionate and warm that it made Phil feel right at home, especially when it was followed by a safe and comfortable pat on the back from Martyn and Dan's reassuring presence right next to him.

“Don’t stay up too late, you two,” Cornelia said, warmth in her voice as she pulled away from the hug, making sure the both of them had heard her. “We're having breakfast together tomorrow, remember.”

“No promises,” Dan laughed, the familiar teasing tone that he always used whenever he was around Phil's family, the tone that indicated he felt comfortable and safe and understood, a shift in his voice that always managed to send a thrill of affection down Phil's spine.

“I'll tear your door down,” Cornelia threatened, the look in her eyes as fiery as the red curls bobbing on her head as she turned around, taking Martyn's hand in her own and starting to walk away.

Dan's smile was dazzling as he knocked his shoulder against Phil's, an explosion of warmth in front of Phil's eyes, bright enough to defeat the ongoing storm outside. “One episode before bed time?”

Phil felt like he was inside a bubble, the voices around him muffled, his focus on the way Dan was leaning into his space, always pulling his attention to him.

It still felt that way once they were back in the hotel room, hidden away from prying eyes and huddled together on Dan's bed - because Phil's was cluttered with the clothes he'd taken off before leaving for dinner. 

The howling of the storm was only getting louder, each thunder hitting the ground seemingly outside their windows, the noise resembling an earthquake with the sheer force of it. However, Phil was almost able to ignore it, comfortable with Dan's warmth right beside him as it had been for years, an episode of Food wars playing on his laptop, a familiar routine that never failed to make him feel at home. 

“God that looks good,” Dan groaned every few minutes, the sound of it making Phil tingle, low and intimate in the otherwise quiet room. Night time made Phil feel everything stronger, every thought and every feeling that he had managed to bury deep down for almost ten years, or at least so he'd thought.

He started to say something, anything to shift the situation back onto a familiar track, feeling off balance with the way his brain was working that day - but he didn't have time to say anything before something seemed to explode right out on the street, the entire building shaking because of it. 

The room suddenly plunged into darkness as the bedside lamps turned off, effectively leaving them with the lightning going on outside as their only source of light. 

Dan startled next to him, the small yelp leaving his mouth immediately drowned by the ongoing rain. “What the fuck?” He wondered out loud, a frown set in between his brows as he tried to turn the lamp back on, to no avail.

“I think the hotel lost power,” Phil said, trying to keep his voice level as he turned to grab his phone from the bedside table, noticing that Martyn had already texted him, beating him to it. “Yeah, Martyn says their room has no power either.”

“That doesn't make me feel better.”

“Wait,” Phil said, more to himself than towards Dan, frowning down at his phone as Martyn texted again. “He's asking if our door opens?”

His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness of the room that he could clearly see the moment Dan's look of confusion left place to realization as he jumped up from the bed, a “crap” muttered under his breath as he ran to the entrance door on the other side of the room. 

Phil watched Dan struggle with the door handle for a few seconds, already texting Martyn back, knowing what was happening before Dan could say the dreaded words. Of course the door wasn’t opening, he thought to himself, it didn’t have a mechanical lock, was instead controlled by the card that Dan was helplessly pressing against the turned off digital pad. 

“Phil,” came Dan’s slightly panicked voice, made even more trembling by the laboured breaths he was taking. “I think we’re locked in. The door isn’t - it won’t open.”

Another thunder rumbled outside, the both of them flinching at the sound. Phil could see Dan, stood in his pajamas in front of a door that wasn’t going to open at least for a while, looking lost and a bit scared.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, then, when he let the small bubble of anxiety leave his body to make room for composure, patting his head on the bed that he was still sitting on. 

“Come here,” he said, making sure to keep his voice level and his eyes focused on nothing but Dan, the way his features were barely visible with the faint light coming from outside and still the one thing Phil could probably recount with extreme precision. 

Dan didn’t move, his arms hanging in defeat at his sides, card still in hand. “Did you hear me? It’s not opening.”

“Come here,” Phil repeated, this time putting more emphasis in his voice, a smile showing up on his face the moment Dan took a step forward, walking the brief distance that separated the bed from the door. 

Placing his phone back on the bedside table, Phil started wondering about all the ways he knew to comfort Dan, to distract him from the storm that was still going on and the darkness that was going to surround them for the time being. 

“Do you want to finish the episode?” He asked, watching Dan as he climbed back in bed, sliding his body underneath the duvet, bringing it up to his nose. 

Dan shook his head, a frown still set on his forehead. “Can we - do you mind if we just chill?”

“I don’t.” Phil said and hoped that Dan wouldn’t be able to hear the slight disappointment that he couldn’t help but feel at the idea of getting into his own bed that was just a couple feet away but hadn’t been warmed up by their bodies, that didn’t smell like the two of them and the chocolate that they had been consuming as they watched the show.

He swung one leg off the bed before he could feel the weight of Dan’s hand on his arm, stopping him. He turned to find Dan staring at him with eyes wide open, the only thing visible from his cocoon of bedsheets, a pleading look in them. 

“Stay here,” he whispered, the grasp on his arm tight enough that Phil wasn’t sure he would be able to pull away without struggling - not that he wanted to. “Please?”

It was the easiest thing in the world to whisper, “of course,” back, placing Dan’s laptop next to his own phone before sliding underneath the covers as well, already feeling himself relax as he felt Dan wiggle a little bit closer. 

“Thank you.”

Phil could feel the tension that was still running through Dan’s body as he turned on his side to watch him. “It’s fine. The storm won’t last long, I’m sure, the electricity will be back before we know it.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Dan’s voice made him sound younger than he was, as young as when Phil had first met him, soft spoken and eager to impress. It pulled at something deep in Phil’s chest, a need to protect that was always part of him but that he tried to hide most of the times. 

“It will,” he said, his voice sounding more sure than he actually was. It would help Dan, though, and that was all it mattered. “They must have plans for these kind of situations, you heard the man earlier, they were expecting it would happen.”

“How can you be so calm? The heating isn’t on, we might freeze to death.”

“It’s not that cold. And even if it was, you’re always so warm,” Phil said, trying to resist the desire to bury his nose in Dan’s pillow to inhale his perfume, drink in the particular fragrance of Dan’s body heat and the smell of his expensive body wash that never failed to make Phil feel at home. 

Dan didn’t respond right away; instead, Phil felt him move around on the bed until he was closing the small gap between them, one arm was wrapping around Phil’s abdomen, tentative. “I  _ am _ warm,” Dan whispered, an odd mix of pride and shyness in his voice that Phil wanted to analyze, find out exactly how he managed to sound that way. 

“You are,” it was the only thing he could say, knowing that there was a smile on his lips as he raised his own arm to pull Dan forward, delighted in the small sigh of happiness leaving Dan’s mouth, close enough that Phil could hear it over the sound of the unstopping rain. 

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Phil was sure Dan had fallen asleep, breathing evened out. His hand had started moving on its own - or so he told himself - fingers tracing small patterns on Dan’s lower back as he let his mind wander to years and years before, when lying like this with Dan wouldn’t be considered a special occasion but rather their norm, wrapped up in each other on Phil’s childhood bed, talking about nothing and simply enjoying spending time together that wasn’t limited to an internet connection. 

Phil tried not to think about it much, the way it had been at the beginning, the freedom that came from being together hidden away from prying eyes and curious comments. It hadn’t lasted long, all things considered, slowly fizzling away without the two of them ever talking about it. It had been a mutual decision, Phil had told himself at the time, to not let it turn into something romantic, not completely. They didn’t have to fight over it, because they never talked about it. 

They simply pulled away at some point, let their touches turn from tentative to stiffed, let the declarations fade away until it was nothing but a memory that Phil could lock away in his brain, labelling it as something that belonged to the past, nothing more than a too realistic daydream.

Except now there he was, almost ten years later, Dan asleep in between his arms and a life shared together, nothing about them that felt like it belonged to the past.

He sighed quietly, simply placing his head firmer against the pillow, chin almost propped on Dan’s curls.

“Are you okay?”

Phil could barely contain his startled reaction as Dan suddenly spoke, fingers stilling and heart beating fast, almost like he had been caught doing something that he shouldn’t have. 

“I thought you were sleeping.”

Dan’s hold tightened as he snuggled closer to Phil, surrounding him with even more warmth and making his heartbeat only go faster. “Don’t avoid my question. I can hear you think.”

There was something so endearing about the way Dan knew him so well, the way he could read every single reaction of Phil’s body and understand whether something was going on. It made it almost impossible for Phil to hide anything from him, not that he ever really wanted to, and for as much as he pretended he was annoyed by it, it was a reminder that they had managed to let their relationship flourish into something that was more special than most. 

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said, not even trying to hide the fondness from his voice. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

Maybe it was the darkness that made Phil feel like it was allowed, to let these thoughts out in the open and give them out for Dan to take care of. “About how long it’s been since we cuddled like this.”

Dan chuckled, the sound of it low and deep and tickling at Phil’s neck. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

“Yeah. A couple of years, at least.”

Dan hummed. “Really? To me it feels like it’s been no time at all.”

Phil didn’t know what that meant, what Dan was implying with that. “Glad to know cuddling with me is such a hardship that you feel like it’s always happening.”

It was a joke, they both knew it was, but it seemed like Dan wasn’t in the mood for it, the short huff leaving his mouth making Phil’s neck prickle. “You know that’s not what I mean. It’s just that you’re always so close, closer than I let anyone else be.”

“That a problem?”

“No,” Dan said, the word whispered as easily as breathing for him, not a single hint of him being unsure about it. “Having you close was never an issue for me. Even when I let you think it was.”

It clicked immediately what Dan was talking about, the long months of strained conversations and barely there expressions of affection that had saddened him deeply. 

“I wish I had known.”

“I thought it was obvious, honestly.”

Nothing about the conversation they were having was obvious for Phil, feeling like he was trying too hard to understand every word Dan was saying. “What was it?” 

“That I pushed you away, because I wanted you close, all the time.”

Phil could feel himself frowning. “That makes no sense. If you wanted me close, you could just..”

“You know why I didn’t, though. You know why I was scared.” There was a moment of silence, almost like Dan was leaving him time to disagree. “Wasn’t it the same, for you?”

It was hard to understand what they were actually talking about. “I think I was just afraid of you running away, to be honest.”

He could feel Dan’s body tense up at his words. “Do you think I was the one that ruined us?”

“We are not ruined.”

“Ruined the chance of us, together.”

It felt like there was no oxygen in Phil’s lungs, the air knocked out of him as he gasped, Dan’s sentence surprising him completely with how sudden it was. “I -” He cleared his throat as he scrambled around in his brain to find the right words, before he decided to just be honest. “I think we both did it, Dan. I don’t think either of us is to blame. We both pulled away from it.”

They fell into silence again, the only sound the thunderstorm still going outside, the howling of the wind making the windows tremble. Phil felt lightheaded, not really sure how they had ended up talking about something that they had kept buried deep inside for almost a decade. 

“We’re both here now, though. We’re not pulling away anymore, are we?” 

Phil lowered his face to look at Dan then, throwing caution out of the way for the chance to look into brown eyes that he knew so well, feeling the need to read the look in them. What he found was complete abandon and openness, the kind of look that he had seen more and more often over the last year.

It made something in his chest settle then, as if there had been a storm going on inside himself as well as outside and Dan has cleared it away, turning the clouds into sunshine. 

“We’re not pulling away.”

They moved together, like they always did, joining back the thread of a relationship that they had stopped almost a decade ago, before it even had the chance to blossom. Their lips met without struggle, fitting together without them fighting for it, the movement the easiest thing in the entire world. It felt comfortable and familiar, like everything with Dan always felt, no sudden burst of something unexpected - it was almost nostalgic, the same kind of delighted affection that he felt whenever he was surrounded by his family, whenever he thought back to memories of long ago.

It felt like something that had never stopped, something that had been sizzling underneath, keeping warm and ready to be experienced when the time was right. 

They kissed for what felt like forever, smiling against lips that felt a natural extension of his own, fingers and legs coming together then pulling apart, only to find the other again. 

When they finally pulled apart, lips burning with the exertion, Phil was surprised by the soft yellow light that assaulted his eyes. He blinked, confused for a second, before a giggle escaped his mouth, the realization of what was happening hitting him and making him delirious - or maybe it was just the happiness that was cursing through him.

“What?” Dan asked, clearly confused, his head still buried under the covers. 

Phil lowered his head to look at him, one hand placing on his cheek to poke at the dimple that was showing up, a clear indication of Dan’s smile.

“The electricity is back. I think the storm might be calming down.”

“Oh,” Dan said, and Phil could swear there was a blush beginning on his cheeks. “Turn the light off then? We should probably sleep.”

So that’s what they did, arms around each other and content smiles on their faces, the knowledge that the sooner they would fall asleep, the sooner they would wake up, facing a new day, together.

Phil couldn’t wait.    
  


 


End file.
